"That's a very tall animal you've taken to riding lately, my friend Hawkehurst," said George, "and when a man rides the high horse with me I always let him have the benefit of his monture. You have served yourself without consideration for me, and I shall not trouble myself in the future with any regard for you or your interests. But if harm ever comes to you or yours, through my brother Philip, remember that I warned you. Good night."
* * * * *
In Charlotte's room the cheery little fire burned late upon that frosty night, while the girl sat in her dressing-gown dreamily brushing her soft brown hair, and meditating upon the superhuman merits and graces in her lover.
It was more than an hour after the family had retired, when there came a cautious tapping at Charlotte's door. "It is only I, dear," said a low voice; and before Charlotte could answer, the door was opened, and Diana came in, and went straight to the hearth, by which her friend was sitting.
"I am so wakeful to-night, Lotta," she said; "and the light under your door tempted me to come in for a few minutes' chat."
"My dearest Di, you know how glad I always am to see you."
"Yes, dear, I know that you are only too good to me—and I have been so wayward, so ungracious. O, Charlotte, I know my coldness has wounded you during the last few months."
"I have been just a little hurt now and then, dear, when you have seemed not to care for me, or to sympathise with me in all my joys and sorrows; but then it has been selfish of me to expect so much sympathy, and I know that, if your manner is cold, your heart is noble."
"No, Lotta, it is not noble. It is a wicked heart."
"Diana!"